Tatlı Küçük Yalancilar Novels & Stories

“Lamp my ass.” “That's the truth.” Nikolai reached for my wrist, pulling me outside until we were at the entrance of his room. He flung me inside and pointed at the electrical socket, then at the lamp that had been packaged on the table, burnt and black. “I knew you would need evidence.” “You're lying,” I shook my head as I stared at the lamp, “you're lying to me.” “One thing about perpetual liars is they think everyone is like them. The evidence is right there and you still don't believe it,” Nikolai shook his head, “that only points at your ability to fake evidence.”

"Welcome—" The girl's composed smile disappeared the instant our eyes met. Panic flashed across her face. Lowering her gaze, she stammered awkwardly, "W-What would you like to order...?" The moment I looked at her, I knew she was the one. A faint smile curved my lips as I sized her up. "Two egg tarts." She looked innocent and delicate, small enough to seem fragile. I suddenly remembered how Lucas used to tell me that being short was cute.

A private hallway, heads bent close. His hand on her back, her face turned toward his. Headlines scream across the images, accusatory and sensational: "Was Flora Hawthorne Always Damien's Partner in Crime?" "The Billionaire's Widow—Or the Mastermind Behind the Betrayal?" "Secret Meetings: What Lucas Arden Doesn't Know" Flora's knees weaken as she sinks into the nearest chair, the phone nearly slipping from her suddenly numb fingers. "They're fake," she whispers, her voice catching. "They have to be fake." But even as she says it, she recognizes locations, clothing she's worn. The craftsmanship is impeccable.

She whined, "Tim, why aren't you in bed yet? Aren't you tired after what we did?" "I'll be there in a second," Timothy replied, then added one last cutting remark, "Halle, don't learn to lie like your mommy. Daddy doesn't like children who lie." Halle cried into the phone, "Daddy, I'm not lying! I'm not!"

♡VIRANICA POV♡ how can my prince be like this no he is not at all my prince he is fake all the time he enjoyed with girls being around me how can he play with my emotions I believed him I loved him I cared for him how can he cheat on me how can he lie he is fake he is fake sobb mom he is not good mom he is bad mom sobbb the prince I loved is not him he is not good person he is not the man I dreamed about

he came all over my underwear,which sent me over the edge,a small moan escaped my lips,i clapsed my hand over my lips "i know youre there darling..come here"

“Don’t bother. Milka already convinced me to be Olaf for Halloween.” My lips formed a grin, and I turned my face toward him. “For real?” He shrugged. “She agreed to let me be zombie Olaf.” “Unbelievable.” I laughed as Conor called for Milka. She whined in protest until he mentioned the c-word—“candy.” I had quickly come to realize that Milka’s absolute favorite thing in the world was Sour Patch Kids, and that Conor always seemed to have a stash of them somewhere around his person. He used them for anything, including bribery.

"Lily is going to be good too. I need to be better than good." "What does better than good look like?" Sofia asked. "Real," Ava said. "It looks real." Sofia nodded slowly. "Then be real." "I'm trying to figure out how to be real in front of four hundred people without it feeling like a performance of being real." "That's the whole thing, isn't it," Sofia said. "The moment you perform authenticity it stops being authentic." "Extremely unhelpful," Ava said. "Thank you." "I'm just identifying the problem. You'll solve it. You always solve things."

"She said it would not leave. She warned that the memory and the whispers would not leave until I warned you." "What was her warning?" "You are not to come looking for them." "Them?" Lord White inquired. He needed to be sure he meant the five whispers. "Yes. They are five. All beautiful goddesses, made from the sea, and the silence of trees. Seek out silence, and you'll find them in peace. Seek out trouble, or dare shout amongst trees, and you'll also find them. However, the latter wouldn't bode well for the person who does. The former, you will find them, and with love."

My child is legitimate, while yours is a bastard. "You're talking nonsense; you're the one who's illegitimate. Your whole family is made up of bastards." I could never do something to destroy someone else's family, and this woman was clearly trying to deceive me. "Go find the father of your child and confront him in person." Only now did Wendy realize something was wrong with me. She gave me a once-over. "Have you lost your memory? No wonder you keep a notebook to jot things down." She sneered, took a small notebook from her bag, and tossed it to me.